


Song of Crowns and Kaiju

by crookedcig



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Mash-up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-02
Updated: 2013-11-02
Packaged: 2017-12-31 07:14:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1028793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedcig/pseuds/crookedcig
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabble for a friend who is equally obsessed with Pacific Rim and Game of Thrones/SoIaF.  Proof that Jaime and Brienne are drift compatible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Song of Crowns and Kaiju

Falling isn’t quite as easy as some would lead you to believe. Falling usually involves failing and it almost always involves hitting the ground at a higher rate of speed than you’ll enjoy.

The really terrible thing is that no one warned him just how far and fast he had to fall before he hit the bottom. He’d thought he understood the trajectory of it, but looking back up at where he’d been and then at his surroundings left him muddled and more confused every single fucking time.

It had started with his hand. He lost his hand, and then he lost his sister, and then his jaeger. Cersei, for all that the two of them were cut from the same cloth, was a survivalist in a way that Jaime had never been able to be. She could change the presentation of her _self_ so easily, so readily that she was drift compatible with almost anyone, especially if they had a dick and were willing to give her a few orgasms first. Cersei wanted _desperately_ to survive. Jaime, on the other hand, only wanted _her_ and to hear someone cheer his name now and then when he killed a monster.

So when he’d lost his dominant hand to an engine part that he couldn’t even name let alone explain the significance of, he’d been out of his jaeger and his sister for two months. By the time he could get back into Clarion Roar she’d moved on and the fact that he just couldn’t pilot with his left hand instead of his right turned out to be the lesser of two gut punches that day. He watched her go through a few co-pilots for another week, trying to find the best fit. PPDC reps had suggestion she try another family member at first. The other brother, a cousin, even her son. He’d laughed at the suggestion, much to the confusion of the sweet-faced woman beside him with enough steel in her spine that he might have been interested if he hadn’t been so fucking bitter, and reached out to tug on those strange blue streaks her in hair. The only thing Cersei refused to do, even if it meant survival, was drifting with a member of her family other than her pretty brother, and only the two of them knew why.

Which is how he ended up in the boonies, almost in the Atlantic he was so far away from danger, strapping into a jaeger that didn’t have a paint job let alone a name. Last resort for washed up pilots, the PPDC desperate not to let all that money and training go to waste. There was a sour little man instead of blue-streaked-hair, and it almost made him sad that no one he’d known in his previous life would even be there to see his crash land into Earth, where everyone else was waiting for him to join them in despair. At least it was a Mark V, with a nuke in her hot chest and broad shoulders and legs that went on (nearly literally) for miles. His kind of lady. There was really no reason to even look over as his co-pilot strapped in. He’d seen quite enough of her when she’d taken him to the mat time and again, sparring with him, surprising him in ways he hadn’t though possible any more. 

He resented that he’d had to sober up to taker her on the second time, just to prove that he could hold his own. He resented that he still had to shake brains with her, even though he knew this wasn’t going to work. He resented that she waded into the drift like she was out to kill it instead of diving in and leaving scarcely a ripple, like Cersei did. He resented that she didn’t wait for him but forged ahead on her own without giving a little wink and a wriggle to feel him inside her, like any reasonable woman would.

But he followed her, regardless, because he liked that she didn’t look back with pity. He liked that he knew what it felt like to have her knock the breath out of him. He liked that her right hook was stronger than his had ever been. And he especially liked that there were some fucking monsters that were going to suffer for that.

There were hoots of celebration when they came out of the drift together, locked in as if they’d been designed for it, despite the fact that she was four inches taller and had at least 20 kilograms on him. He’d missed the cheering enough that it almost distracted him, but she was still moving inexorably forward and so he caught up, sliding through a few stances as easily as if he was piloting alone. When she curled her right hand around her left fist to grip it, show off the claws that shot from the jaeger’s knuckles like a bad joke from a comic book, he felt for the first time in three years like he wasn’t broken.

The silence between them overwhelmed their crew sometimes. Left people terrified that things had gone wrong, that they’d been lost to a trench or a current or a kaiju. But they never had to say anything aloud, they could let thoughts slid through their joined minds without their mouths moving and his fighting was better for it, though he couldn’t speak for her. They were silent in the canteen together, they were silent in the gym where she sometimes bench pressed him just to show off, just to make the other pilots chuckle with them instead of at. They were silent when he moved inside her in the darkness, three hands more than enough to bring them pleasure so finite that it tore him apart, the hollow place between his lungs where his heart should have been feeling almost full sometimes.

In fact, the only thing they said to each other aloud when anyone else could hear them, the same every time they stepped into the drift to bring all the wrath and fury of Victor Ursa to bear on some great creepy crawly was, simply, “Don’t think about dad.”


End file.
